Welcome to the Dark Side
by XxBurningAngel13xX
Summary: With the arrival of a new generation of heroes, comes a new generation of villains. Tag along with Striker-a speedster with a poisonous attitude, Vyku-a Russian android, and Red Bird-protege of Red Hood. Follow along as they forge shaky alliances, fight famous heroes like Batman and the Flash, and...attend High School?
1. Character Bios

Name: Kliment Dubrovskiy

Nickname: Kli / "Tin Man" (used only by his friend, Aaron)

Alias: Glaz-Vykupa (Russian for "Eye of Redemption") / Usually shortened to Vyku _(v-coo)_

Alliance: Villains

Gender: Male

Age: 16 years (Built to appear as) / 2 years (Actual)

Nationality: Russian

Current Residence: Star City

Birthday: January 7th, 2008

Powers: Enhanced strength, speed, reflexes, and memory

Weapons: Any gun he can get his hands on, otherwise his specially-modified laser rifle and scope.

Abilities: Hacking, marksmanship,

Costume: A white, metal suit made up of overlapping layers of 'scales'. A jagged design but not bulky. His arms are bare from his shoulders to his elbows. He wears no mask. Instead, he hides his face beneath a white hood like an assassin from Assassin's Creed. He bears gauntlets on his forearms and boots up to mid-shin. Geometrics outlines of shapes glow neon-green along his arms and back. Wears a small, silver amulet that used to belong to Koia.

Appearance: Pale ginger hair with neon-green eyes, slightly above average height, and medium build.

Family: None, although he was once close with his creator, Koia Dubrovskiy.

History: Created to keep Koia company, Kliment was designed as an 'older brother' figure. Being a remarkable genius at the young age of 12, Koia had few issues putting Kliment together. Once booted up, Kliment was quickly taught how to act and appear human. He even slowly grew to understand emotions demonstrated by his creator. So much so, that when Koia fell ill with a terminal illness, Kliment was distraught. He sought any means to cure her, whether they be legal or not. His efforts eventually paid off, when he managed to steal a revolutionary serum from a lab in Star City. However, before he could bring the medicine to Koia, Kliment faced opposition from Green Arrow. Inexperienced in proper combat, Kliment was defeated and the possibly life-saving medicine taken away from him. Sentenced to two years in jail due to his crimes and age, Kliment impatiently awaited his freedom. A few break-outs were quelled here and there before he was finally released. It was at this time, Kliment was made aware of Koia's passing. Turns out, she died mere hours after his imprisonment. Since then, Kliment has blamed heroes such as Green Arrow for the death of his beloved creator and sister, Koia. He has vowed revenge on Green Arrow and hopes to one day see Koia's death avenged.

Personality: Usually quiet and shy, yet is aggressive in combat, a stereotypical nerd when it comes to video games and science exploits, a klutz most of the time, carries an odd sense of justice, so he occasionally helps heroes and hinders villains.

Fears: Red Bird, someone discovering he's an Android, someone telling Red Bird he's an Android, did I mention Red Bird?

Likes: Computers, electronics, Doctor Who, and children (they remind him of Koia).

Dislikes: Heroes, specifically Archers, and hospitals.

Talents: Can engineer small drones to aid him or set up electrical traps.

Name: Aaron Wade

Nickname: "Fangs" (given by his friend, Kliment)

Alias: Striker

Alliance: Villains

Gender: Male

Age: 14 years

Nationality: Canadian

Current Residence: Star City / Central City (sometimes switches)

Birthday: August 13th, 1995

Powers: Super speed, poisonous blood and venom

Weapons: His venom/fangs, throwing knives, and the occasional handgun.

Abilities: Agility, can produce two different venoms: yellow paralyzes and purple kills, heals faster.

Costume: Thick, ebony, skin-tight suit that covers his entire body, head-to-toe. Deep purple tribal designs adorn his sides along the length of his body. A narrow visor allows him to see, but keeps his eyes from view of others. His boots overlap his suit up to just below the knees and are secured with several straps and buckles. Whether he is in costume or not, he always wears a medallion shaped like a serpent.

Appearance: Platinum blonde with honey-yellow eyes, medium build, and about average height. Upper canines are elongated into fangs, like a snake's, when he's angry or distressed.

Family:

Mother- Kira Wade (deceased)

Father- Raymond Wade

Brother- Dean Wade

Sisters-Helen Wade, Lily Villke

History: Aaron's childhood was a soft one in that his parents' jobs earned a generous income. His family wasn't rich, but it was far from poor. Both his parents worked in the medical field: his mother was a skilled doctor and his father was a brilliant medical scientist. Life was simple and sweet for the young Aaron up 'til the age of seven. At this point, had died of illness shortly after Aaron's seventh birthday. Forced to support Aaron, his brother, and his sisters, began struggling to make ends meet. So much so, that in order to further his research into DNA splicing that he began experimenting on his own son, Aaron. Aaron was forced to endure numerous uncomfortable and often agonizing experiments. claimed he was using genetics and DNA splicing to cure disease and ailments. In reality, he wanted to enhance the powers of the mind and create a human weapon for the armed forces. (Who would pay a great deal for an edge in combat.) One day, as prepared another injection for Aaron, he decided to add the DNA of several poisonous snakes. He hoped their contribution would finally bring the results he wanted: heightened senses and instincts, if not a power similar to telekinesis. Why snakes? Well, probably didn't have much sanity remaining, so his crooked logic likely told him he should use them. Besides, snakes are cool. Anyway, Aaron did successfully merge with the snakes' DNA and became a hybrid of human and animal. He found he could strike faster than a Black Mamba and his new poison bite was deadlier than a King Cobra's. Other experiments only enhanced his speed to the point of allowing him to rival speedsters everywhere, including the Flash. So Aaron, now eight, was a deadly fusion of man and beast…and a very annoyed young kid. He didn't appreciate the months of torture and decided his father had to go. A quick bite to the wrist and received a poisonous gift from his son. However, Aaron's venom was equal to a baby Cobra's at the time and wasn't potent enough to kill . It did send his father over the edge and lost his sanity altogether. With his father now locked up in a mental facility, Aaron was free to do as he pleased. Pain from his father's experiments and grief from his mother's death left Aaron with a chunk of ice in his heart. He now snaps at the heels of the Flash or exchanges projectiles with Green Arrow for his own amusement.

Personality: Calculating, proud, egomanic, reckless at times, distrustful of others, prefers solitude or the company of close friends, and sharp-tongued.

Fears: Being experimented on again, being buried alive, and swarms of bats.

Likes: Snakes and reptiles, sunny/warm areas, eating the occasional bird or rodent. (Yes, he can unhinge his jaw if need-be.) Plus, Soul Eater and Black Butler. (Oddly, an anime-fan.)

Dislikes: Archers, scientists, human-experimentation, cold weather/snow,

Talents: Unarmed combat


	2. Episode 1: Arkham

"Daddy, please don't. I don't want to help you anymore," whimpers a young boy.

"You can't back out now, not when we're so close!" A man in a white labcoat towers over the boy with a syringe in hand.

"Y-you said that a month ago…" sniffles the boy, his pale hair dipping over his eyes.

Ignoring the obvious fear in the child's eyes, the man reaches out and grabs his wrist, extending his arm for the injection. As the needle draws closer, the boy begins to squirm.

"Hold still!" demands the man, his brow furrowed in concentration.

"But I don't want to do this anymore, Daddy! I want to go home! I want Mommy back!" protests the boy as sobs erupt.

"Well, she's not coming back! Get over it!" snaps the aging man as his grip tightens.

This does nothing to calm the boy, so he fights the grip on him.

"I said hold still!" growls the man, as he struggles to position the needle just right.

Fingers claw at the hand and the man scowls.

"Calm down, son. This will only hurt a little," reassures the man with eerie calm.

Wide eyes watch as his father appears to grow ever taller. The boy's breathing becomes fast and shallow as the tiny needle becomes a harpoon. His heart stops as the needle crashes down and impales him. Hot, sticky blood pours out of the wound and he desperatly tries to staunch the flow with his hands.

"Good. Now, just one more."

The boy screams as another harpoon syringe strikes his flesh.

Aaron jolts awake to someone screaming before realizing it's him. Abruptly, he stops and sits up in bed. He waits for his heart to slow down as he notices his covers are drenched in sweat.

He sighs heavily.

"Not again…" he sighs as he rests his face in his palm.

Running his hand back, he slicks down his platinum-blonde hair.

Creaking of wood is the bed's only complaint as Aaron swings his legs over the edge and sets his feet on the cold floor.

Walking into the bathroom, Aaron hops into the shower to relax away the tension in his muscles with hot water and steam.

"I'm never going to be able to sleep, knowing he's still out there. I have to do something about that." Aaron lets the water caress him for another minute before shutting it off.

Grabbing his outfit from a dark dufflebag, he slips into his skin-tight, ebony costume. Running his fingers down the sides of his arms, he traces the purple tribal designs.

Sitting down on his bed, Aaron sets his laptop on his lap. Flipping it open, he types something on the keyboard. A database shows up on the screen.

"Great, he;s been transferred to Gotham. He must be really losing it," he mutters to himself before shutting his laptop.

Pulling on his visor, he completes the look and hides his identity as Aaron. He is now Striker, a speedster.

In the time it takes to brush someone's teeth, Striker is already dashing through Gotham. He is fast. Faster than even the famous Flash...or so he likes to believe. Still, he is a dark blur through the crowded streets of Gotham City before he comes to rest in an alley.

Striker has a plan. A lengthy one. He knows he needs nothing less if he is to take on the famous Batman. Unlike some petty crooks, he has sharp wits and he intends to use them to avoid underestimating his opposition.

Peeking out from a corner of a brick building, Striker stares at a hardware store across the street.

Step 1: Supplies

Void of pockets-let alone a wallet-Striker expects to 'borrow' his plan's necessities.

Stirring up a breeze, Striker is in-and-out before anyone can wonder about the draft. Setting his thick, metal items down on a table, Striker leans on the workbench.

Hearing the shuffling of feet behind him, Striker merely growls warningly.

"You're a ways from home, Tin Man."

"I could say the same for you, Fangs."

Emerging from the gloom, a teen quietly approaches the shorter blonde. Even in the dim lighting his neon green eyes glow brightly. Opening his mouth to speak, the pale red-head freezes after setting his hand carelessly down on the workbench.

Striker raises an eyebrow.

Lifting his hand, 'Tin Man' stares at the pink blob of jelly in his hand.

Striker is unphased. "Problem?"

"Uh...yeah...why is there a jellyfish in my hand?" asks the other teen, confused.

Striker shrugs. "Oh him? He's part D."

Giving the blonde a strange look, green eyes return to the wriggling pink mass.

"Should I be worried?" he inquires quietly.

Waving him off, Striker answers, "Nah. I mean, I do have a plan, so it's all good."

It is at this moment that Striker feels he can fill his friend, Vyku, in about his whole murderous scheme. Vyku is quite worked up by the end.

"This is MURDER, Striker! Way above the petty crimes we've committed!" points out Vyku, his voice rising with his distress.

Rolling his eyes, Striker replies, "I'm already aware of that, Tin Man. Sheesh, you sound like you want to join up with the Justice League."

Vyku attempts a pout and ends up looking like a hurt puppy. He ends up stroking the jellyfish for comfort, immune to the shock of the stingers.

Sighing, Striker walks over and gives Vyku's shoulder a playful punch. Fighting off a grimace-for it was like punching concrete-he smiles at the taller male.

"Thanks for the concern, but I'll be fine...I'm only taking on Batman-" reassures Striker before he's interrupted.

Vyku pales to a dull silver-pink. "Batman?! You do realize you're taking on the Batman, right?" he gasps.

Conjuring up an arrogant smirk, Striker nods.

"Who else bears such a name? And I told you not to worry; I have a plan," replies Striker proudly.

Vyku groans and rests a hand on his face.

"Idiot," he mutters under his breath.

Striker snorts. "I'll have you know, my IQ tested into the range of 136!"

"Are you sure this plan of yours will work?" asks Vyku doubtfully.

"Of course it will...probably...likely….hopefully…" reassures Striker as his own doubts cry out to him.

Brushing his long bangs out of his face, Striker starts welding things together with duct tape.

"What could go wrong?"

Batman narrows his eyes beneath the cowl. This 'game' is getting annoying. Not only is this newcomer imitating several styles of other criminals, but now they are just adding nonsense to the mix.

"What is this for?" asks a dark-haired boy with a cape as he holds up a squid.

It is rare for him not to know the answer, yet Batman can't find the logic for the squid.

"Whoever this guy is, he seems to be running out of ideas," points out Robin.

Batman nods with minimal movement while he stands on a rooftop. He is searching for more clues. At first, he thought some unknown criminal wanted to become famous by drawing out the Batman with an attitude like the Riddler's. Now, it is plainly obvious that it is all a decoy.

With just a look, he sends Robin off to investigate his theory while he moves on to 'Part L'.

Snoring loudly, the security officer doesn't mind the camera spotting a young boy and a teen slipping through the gates.

As Striker enters the main doors, he lashes out with a fierce kick. The guards never even saw him.

"Wow, security sucks here," complains Striker, shaking his head in disapproval, "No wonder freaks escape here all the time."

With his ivory hood hiding his face, Vyku brings up the rear. The only reason he tags along is that he worries about the blonde fourteen-year-old standing before him.

"I can't believe this is working so far…" admits Vyku, his voice an uttered whisper.

Strutting down hall upon hall, the pair ventures further into Arkham Asylum. The walls appear to decompose the closer they get to their target.

Finally, Striker stops before a cell marked RW7083. Turning to Vyku, Striker exchanges a nod as he reaches for the door.

Thanks to the guard's keys, Striker is able to unlock the thick metal door. With Vyku's added strength, Striker tugs open the heavy door and it groans loudly in protest. Walking into the dark room, Striker flips on a light-switch.

The walls-now lit-are covered in layers upon layers of formulas and diagrams. Dried blood is the ink.

Studying what appears to be a sketch of a young boy, Striker bares his fangs in a sudden spout of anger.

"How dare you?!" he snarls, enraged, as he claws at the picture.

Striker turns his to his right.

"Why do you have to be so god-d*%$ obsessed?! Do you have any idea what you're doing?!" hisses Striker at the scrawny figure cowering in the corner.

Vyku simple watches wide-eyed, knowing it is not his place to interfere.

Dr. Wade stares at Striker like he is some kind of shape-shifting monster.

Striker approaches the man he once called 'father' like a serpent born from shadows descending upon a diseased rodent.

"You survived our last encounter...but I will NOT make the same mistake again," growls Striker.

Lifting Dr. Wade to his feet by his short collar, honey-yellow eyes meet similar ones through the visor.

This seems to strike up a memory, for Dr. Wade's glazed eyes start to focus. They even seem to soften.

"...Aaron? Is that you?" he asks in a tone too gentle to match what Striker remembers.

Striker hesitates. He isn't so sure who this man is anymore. In a daze, he pulls off his mask to reveal himself to this inmate.

"Dad?" mutters Striker quietly.

Suddenly, he had the urge to run into his father's arms. Try as he might to deny it, he is still just barely into his teens and he needs to be nurtured. He realizes he desperately yearns to have his parents back and this man before him seems ready to meet him half-way.

He is careless. Foolish.

"You wretched child!" snarls Dr. Wade, clawing at Striker's clothes and exposed flesh.

Striker flinches and steps back out of harm's way. His mouth is agape as he stares, startled, at the gray-haired man.

"I was so close to a break-through! I would have gone down in history as the man who furthered the evolution of man!" declares Dr. Wade.

At such a remark, Striker explodes, fueled by his renewed feeling of betrayal. "WHAT THE H^## IS WRONG WITH YOU?!"

"I wouldn't be this way if you didn't reduce me from a world-class lab to a cell with a beginner's Chemistry kit!" spat Dr. Wade.

Striker's grimace turns vile as his canines elongate into fangs dripping with venom.

"Shut. Up! Just, SHUT UP!" Grabbing Dr. Wade's head and jerking it to the side, Striker sinks his fangs deep into his target's throat.

Vyku turns his head and closes his eyes.

Walking out of the room, a thin trail of blood streaks down Striker's chin. Then it is swiftly covered by his mask.

Striker stops abruptly, causing Vyku to bump into him from behind.

"Great, someone let the bird out of the cage," grumbles Striker, annoyed.

A flicker of red and black is the only warning Striker receives before Robin leaps out of the shadows. Side-stepping, Striker avoids the blow from Robin's staff.

"I think it's time you left Arkham!" suggests Robin as he raises his staff for another attack.

"Good idea, Rob. Let's go, Vyku," agrees Striker as he calmly walks past Robin-who is left gawking at them-and down the hall.

Robin's shoulders slump as he lets his arms hang limp. "This is more insulting than that time with Ivy and Cat…" voice trails away into frustrated grumbles.

The pair of young criminals-(Or as Striker likes to think of himself: a criminal Mastermind)-walk down the main hall with the intent of passing through those central doors.

Until a certain bird refuses to be ignored.

THRACK!

Yelping in pain, Vyku rubs the tender flesh upon his head.

Robin grins in satisfaction, gripping his staff tightly. Then he turns to see Striker staring at him strangely.

In Striker's mind, a thought has struck him, is it possible to cook Robin like a rotisserie chicken?

Noticing his friend is close to drooling, Vyku takes a moment to snap his fingers in front of the boy's face.

As his eyes refocus, Striker grins. "Hey Vyku...can I take my meal to go?"

"Mmph! Mmm!"

Standing tall as he struts proudly through the courtyard, Striker ignores the squirming mass slung over his shoulder.

Occasionally, Vyku casts a concerned glance at Striker and the Boy Wonder.

Catching movement out of the corner of his eye, Striker braces himself to fight the Batman. Turning his head, the figure of a girl surprises him.

Adoring a trench coat dipped in a deep crimson and enriched black, the girl pauses in her sprint towards the entrance to Arkham Asylum.

Locking eyes, the trio stares at each other blankly.

Seeing a small, serious girl reminds Vyku painfully of his sister, Koia. He suddenly has the urge to hug this girl like she can fill the void Koia left behind. He takes a step-

"Oh, H ## NO! PUT THE BIRD DOWN NOW!" roars the ebony-haired girl, her green eyes ablaze behind the mask.

-and startled, trips into a face-plant.

Striker rolls his eyes at his companion and frowns at the girl.

"Or what?" asks Striker stubbornly.

Whipping out a pistol, the girl appears to have every intent of using it. Taking aim, her glare darkens.

Robin ceases his flailing to stare wide-eyed at the gun. "When did this city start dealing weapons to children?" he wonders.

"Put. Him. Down. Or I'll shoot," threatens the girl with malice.

Striker's expression doesn't change. Instead, he tempts fate by smirking.

"I don't believe you. Have you ever even held a gun before?" he taunts.

A sound like a crack of lightning splits the silence. Soon, a sharp cry follows.

Glancing over his shoulder, Striker watches as Vyku collapses to his knees, clasping his upper thigh.

"WHY DID YOU SHOOT ME?!" gasps Vyku.

The girl shrugs carelessly. "I just don't like your kind," she answers.

Vyku pales which the girl associates with blood-loss. "Y-you know...what I am?" he chokes out, stunned.

The girl sighs as if he bores her and nods. "Of course. It's rather easy to spot an idiot."

Vyku lets out the breath he had been holding. He's both relieves and anxious at the same time.

Spectating at the brief exchange, Striker practically pouts as he carefully sets Robin down. However, he doesn't bother to untie the capped side-kick.

Satisfied, the girl turns to continue on her way, cutting Robin free as she passes. He gets up and prepares to pounce on Striker, when the girl interrupts, "Go home bird boy."

"But-"

"Go home!" commands the girl more forcefully.

Sighing in defeat, Robin wonders off. "Fine, but you won't get away so easily next time...Red Bird."

Striker turns and pokes Vyku's shoulder.

"Come on, Tin Man, get up! Let's get out of here before the Bat shows up," hisses Striker under his breath.

Another mistake.

"You mean, Batman is hunting you two idiots?!" growls Red Bird in a mixture of despair and anger.

Striker checks Vyku's watch. "Yep, and we have just enough time to get out of here."

Grinding her teeth, a gloved hand unclips something from her belt. "Since you two morons have ruined my plans for the night, let me leave you with a parting gift," she points out with mocking innocence.

A dark orb lands in Striker's hand. He stares at it dumbfounded. "What is it?" he asks, curious as to why it starts to glow.

But Red Bird is already gone.

In literally a blink of an eye, Striker's escape plan is ruined.

Wide-eyed with surprise, it takes Striker a moment to realize he can't move his legs...or anything below his upper torso.

"Dang it...my nose itches," complains Striker, twitching his nose.

Vyku gives his companion a critical look. "I don't understand why you won't take this situation seriously," he sighs.

"That;s because it's not serious; we accomplished our goal and are just wrapping things up," replies Striker as he attempts to free his arm from the thick, solidified foam.

No success.

Black boots greet the concrete with every step the boy takes. With a disappointed pout plastered firmly on his face, Robin walks towards Wayne Manor through the city.

"I can't believe I listened to her…" he grumbles.

Humming, a sleek, dark car turns a corner onto Robin's street. Spotting the Boy Wonder, the engine revs with excitement. Abruptly, the tires squeal before the vehicle lurches forward with the thrill of the hunt.

Recognizing the call of the engine, Robin turns to see the Batmobile speeding towards him. The fact the ebony titan is on a direct-collision course with Robin alarms him.

"Batman is driving and he wouldn't hurt me," thinks Robin.

Bravely standing his ground, Robin closes his eyes slowly. Shrieking in protest, the Batmobile slides against its side as it glides up close. Finally, it comes to rest just barely brushing against Robin's legs.

Robin shakes like a leaf in the breeze, yet denies he is afraid that he was supposed to have seen his life pass by.

The cover popping open, a crimson figure pops his head out.

"Get your a$$ in here, Robin!" We're going on a little field trip…"

Screeching tires announces the arrival of a famous black transport. Spinning wildly to a halt, the dark glass cover slides open. Bright, cheery-red heels are the first to appear.

Out-of-nowhere, Striker bursts out laughing.

"Am I supposed to believe that is the famous Nightwing?!" he snorts in between giggles.

After dragging himself out of the car looking like he's going to be ill, the black-haired, young man now rests on the ground. Hearing the remark, he protests, "If you hadn't thrown these Go-go boots into part V of your plan, I wouldn't be stuck in these d$%# shoes!"

Red Hood teases, "No swearing in front of the baby bat, Wing."

Nightwing retorts, "He's a baby robin! The baby bat is at home."

Striker exchanges a look with Vyku that reads, "There's another one?!"

Turning back to the speedster, Nightwing complains, "Really?! Super-glue?!" He wriggles his boots for emphasis. "How am I supposed to get out of these things?!" he demands.

Shrugging against his constraints, Striker answers, "Simple, just shed your skin."

Nightwing stares, bewildered. "..."

Striker stares back. "What?"

Then Red Hood decides to interrupt the staring contest. "Okaaay….freak. I have a better idea: just use nail-polish remover," suggests Red Hood.

Now Red Hood has the honor of being stared at.

"How would you know that, Red…" asks Nightwing.

"S$%#," curses Red Hood as he slowly descends back into the driver's seat.

Robin can only stifle his giggles for so long. "Wow, Hood, I didn't know you liked such girly trinkets!" he laughs.

"I don't! It's just a f$#%ing trick I picked up from a girl I know!" protests Red Hood defensively.

Looking around, Striker can't help but feel something is missing.

"Hey! Where's Batman?" he asks curiously.

A small box sits neatly on a round table. Wrapped in red with a scarlet bow to match, it appears to be a simple gift.

However, Batman takes no chances as he silently pulls out a Bat-a-rang. With a flick of the wrist, the Bat-a-rang shoots out to knock off the top of the box. He tenses for a reaction until he decides none will occur. Carefully, he walks over and peeks inside to find a thin card. It reads:

"Thanks for playing!"


End file.
